


For Who So Firm that Cannot Be Seduced?

by elviaprose



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19128289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elviaprose/pseuds/elviaprose
Summary: Crowley has been spotted having dinner with Aziraphale. The first way he can think of to explain it to Hell is that he's been trying seduce and corrupt the angel. It's not a bad explanation, for something totally off the cuff. The only problem is that he's going to have to actually do it. Or at least pretend to.  Set slightly Before Anti-Christ.





	For Who So Firm that Cannot Be Seduced?

"Oh, that? There's an evil reason for that," Crowley told the Council of Hell.

"For dining with an angel?" Beelzebub asked. A thousand flies whirred in the demon's voice, each one Not Buying It.

"Yes! I'm--well, you see I'm--I'm seducing him."

The room went quiet. The flies crawled sluggishly over their lord. Hastur looked more empty-eyed and maggoty than usual, which might have meant he was thinking this over, or might have meant that he was simply stupefied. 

Crowley tried to find this reaction encouraging. Who's on the back foot now, eh? EH? he thought. He managed to think it loudly enough to restore a little of his swagger. He had the feeling he might be digging himself in deeper, but, being the sort of Being he was (that is to say, one that could not keep itself out of Hell) he did not pay that feeling much mind.

"It has never been done. It cannot be done," Beelzebub said. The flies rallied enough to buzz anemically.

"Well...that's the problem with you lot. Just grind away at the tried-and-true. Frankly I've been the only one innovating for bleeding ages. Taken millennia of hard work of, course, but I assure you he's good and seduced. Ripe for the plucking." 

"Then take him," Beelzebub said. "Make him ours." 

Oh, Satan. Crowley convulsed as though he'd just eaten an entire apple without chewing it (something he hadn't done since he was considerably snakier. He didn't miss it). He briefly experienced a sensation that he identified as either panic, or--something even worse. He did his best to ignore it. All was going well.

"Well. I mean--yes, of course--"

"And hurry. Armageddon draws nigh. We must know who can be depended upon."

"Right. The adversary of our Adversary is our adversary, as I always say," Crowley agreed.

"I speak of the angel Aziraphale, but also of you, Crowley," said Beelzebub. "You will be carefully watched." Beelzebub nodded to Ligur and Hastur.

Good thinking, Crowley! Crowley congratulated himself. You've wormed your way right out of trouble--or at least wormed your way a little less than half way out. You do still have to deal with the whole having promised to seduce Aziraphale issue. But that’s nothing. You're a genius. He tried to convince himself that the compliments he had just paid to himself were not at all sarcastic. He tried very hard. 

***

There was now only one place Crowley could be sure that the walls would not have Hellish ears: church. Mincing painfully down the aisle towards Aziraphale while the Angel sat, head bowed gravely in meditation upon the Holy of Holies, was not what Crowley would have chosen for an entrance. He felt, in a word, uncool. He consoled himself, however, that he was only uncomfortable in church because he was Extremely Cool. 

Actually, he noted with some surprise, walking on consecrated ground hurt a good deal less than it had in 1943. He assumed it was because he'd traded custom tailoring for sweatshop-chic, and was thus armored more strongly in unrighteousness. He removed his jacket, dropped it onto the pew, and sat down on it with a wince.

"Goodness," Aziraphale said. "What's come over you?"

Crowley summed up as quickly as he could, in an effort to spare his hide from the holiness.

“Oh, _dear_.”

"The thing is--I think there’s a way out."

"You always have a plan, don't you?" Aziraphale said mildly.

Crowley grimaced. Aziraphale could be a bastard. Probably accidentally, but still.

"We stage it. Have a nice dinner--sushi, your favorite. I'll cover the bill, least I can do. Get that private booth with the nice curtains at Blue Ocean. And I go all out seducing you. Take your hand, stare into your eyes. You succumb. Even kiss me--get into it, really seem to be lusting for me. We go back to mine and I--well, I do the deed. They'll be watching. Now, what they won't expect is that you won’t go over to our side. Thing is, I won't actually have seduced you, you’ll just have played along--so, no sin in your heart. You're just helping an old--associate save his hide. If doing me a favor or two hasn't done you any harm, neither will this. They'll believe I really was trying to seduce you all along, but the brilliant plan just didn't work. So yes, it's, well--it's sex with a demon--but you've done worse, and I'll owe you. I mean REALLY owe you. I'll do your work for you for a century--plus extra good deeds I think up. Now, please, please think it over quickly---before I catch fire."

'Oh, you have made a mess of things," Aziraphale said with a sigh. Crowley tried to gauge how likely a "yes" was, given this response. He found he liked the odds. 

"But nothing we can't fix!" He insisted.

"Surely there must be something else--"

"Think it over," Crowley said, "And I'll drop in here again in a week." He winced at the thought. "You certainly don't rush in. But I suppose that's how you keep out of trouble."

"Do I?" Aziraphale asked, musing (seemingly wholly free of guilt at the thought of Crowley suffering through more holiness. He thought someone a little more angelic might have hurried up, instead of agreeing to the offered week to think). 

"Well--no," Crowley said fondly. Then he rose, patted him on the shoulder, and made his escape. 

***

"Mind if I help you eat that?" Crowley asked. 

"No, of course not, dear fellow," Aziraphale said. "Give it a little wasabi--you’ll like the heat." Aziraphale seemed nervous, which made what Crowley was about to do quite unkind. Well, I'm a demon, he reminded himself. And I did give him a chance to think of a better plan....

Crowley seized a piece of sashimi between his fingers and fed it to Aziraphale before Aziraphale knew what was happening to him. Aziraphale blinked, looking embarrassed. 

"You look so tempting tonight, Angel," he said in a low voice, playing it up for all he was worth.  
He pulled his sunglasses off to fix Aziraphale with his signature serpent stare, and was surprised to note that his hand was a little unsteady. Why? Nothing to worry about, was there?

“Heavens!” Aziraphale exclaimed, playing it up for all he was worth. 

Crowley grinned and winked. Let’s have a little fun with this, he intended his wink to say to Aziraphale. He hoped it would look like a seductive wink to Hastur. Not that Hastur knew the first thing about sexiness.

Aziraphale winked back, and Crowley felt his heart stop dead for a moment. What a charming bastard Aziraphale could be. Really dangerous.

He took Aziraphale's hand across the table. Really, he’s the loveliest thing there is, he thought. He let his thumb move over the hand that he held. He was going to like seducing Aziraphale, he realized. He was going to like it a lot. Well, that was all right, wasn't it? As long as Aziraphale didn’t like it. Well, he could _like it_ , in a friendly sort of way. Aziraphale could have a little fun and stay on the right side of Heaven. But he couldn’t like it in the sinful way that Crowley was going to like it. 

The thing was, Crowley could already tell that he was going to be totally demonic about it. Crowley felt awkward about that--it seemed in poor form, given who he was with, and the terms they’d come to about it--but why not? The expression “damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” certainly applied. What was the point in being a demon if you couldn’t sin as much as you liked, whenever you liked? 

His throat was dry.

“You like little human pleasures,” Crowley murmured. This wasn’t how he’d go about it, if he were trying in earnest. This was 101 stuff--Original Temptation Style, thousands years out of date, but it was--well, it was fun, and they were playing. “Let me tempt you to try a kiss. Such an innocent thing--a little, little peck. Aren’t you curious how it feels? You were issued a body that can feel such things--it would be perfectly angelic to put it to use.”

“Kiss a demon?” 

Crowley wasn’t sure if he liked that. He did enjoy seeing Aziraphale slather on the whole innocent angel act, and he’d said something similar himself last week, but that was almost--insulting. It was different when _Crowley_ said things like that.

“Kiss _me_ ,” Crowley said. “Crowley, your friend--” he swallowed. “Your dearest friend.”

He leaned across the table, buried a hand in Aziraphale’s hair and urged him forward. Aziraphale let himself be urged.

It was a very mild sort of kissing, and even so Crowley ended up moaning so embarrassingly loudly and so embarrassingly much that--well, that it vaulted nimbly over the top and became not embarrassing at all. Couldn’t be real moaning, anyone would say. 

“That’s good--right? Come back to my place, and we’ll have more,” Crowley said. It was too much work to think about what a reasonable thing to say might be, if this were in earnest. Crowley knew himself to be a master of manipulation and subterfuge, but his sinful hungers were making him stupid (was this Hastur’s usual problem? Nah, demon was just an idiot), and Aziraphale had agreed to this plan already and would do it whether he came up with something clever or not.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said biddably. This was also not a line particularly evocative of the temptation and corruption of an Angel of the Host, but, thought Crowley, it would do. It was pretty damn cute.

***  
Crowley was mindful of Aziraphale’s jacket. He knew Aziraphale loved it and that tearing it off him was the fastest way to trouble. He considered whether he could get away with wrecking the waistcoat and decided against it. He very carefully undid each article of clothing, trailing his fingers over the fabric and buttons as he went, enjoying the rounded shape of Aziraphale. The feel of him.

“That’s lovely,” Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley felt his heart miss another beat.

After he had the angel naked, Crowley let himself go. He put his mouth and teeth absolutely everywhere he could think of. Wonderful flesh to kiss and bite--a feast. He was feasting. Gently and tenderly feasting on Aziraphale. Every particle of Crowley’s being loved it. 

He dropped onto his knees and took Aziraphale’s cock straight in his mouth. He’d given plenty of blowjobs--received them too. Well, in a fashion, he had. Human bodies are much more honest than the bodies of divine and fallen beings. If you have sex, and you’re human, you’re more or less _having sex_. Not so for angels and demons. He assumed Aziraphale was currently having sexless sex. Though they were both hard at the moment, one didn’t need to be aroused to be hard, if one were them. For him it had always just been a job. Good way to defrock a priest. Not now. Now, Crowley was very, very turned on.

He didn’t mind that Aziraphale probably wasn’t. Aziraphale--dear Aziraphale--was doing a damn convincing job with the corrupted angel act, whimpering and even, delightfully, trembling a little. All for him--for the sake of his plan. Aziraphale could be so much _fun_. He loved Aziraphale, Crowley realized, with a sharp pang. He loved him. It wasn’t alarming, or exciting to him, it just _was_ , deep in his chest. He let his hands stroke Aziraphale as he sucked, and after all too short a time, Aziraphale came with a soft little “oh my.”

It was really, really hot. With unthinking animal shrewdness, Crowley snapped his fingers and made himself come, too. Subtly. He hoped. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hot waves crashed through him, and he swallowed a whimper. He was the seducer, not the seduced, he reminded himself. And so should not whimper. Or look like he’d just made himself come in his trousers. He thought he’d probably pulled it off.

***

“He did the deed as promised. It is true.”

“Good,” said Beelzebub. “Good.”

“It was completely disgusting,” Hastur said. 

“Look, Hastur, I don’t yuck _your_ yum. I rather enjoyed myself. A pity he didn’t fall as expected, but still--what an achievement, mmm? Who here can say they’ve sucked off an angel?”

The Duke of Hell actually wretched a little at the thought. A maggot or two came out of his mouth.

Crowley shook his head. “No appreciation for the finer sins down here.”

“You are very ingenious, Crowley,” Beelzebub buzzed. “One might say too ingenious. From now on, keep it simple.”

“Hey, just because they don’t all pan out--I don’t plod, you can say that for me.”

“Keep it simpleee!” The buzzing rose nearly to a roar. A roar of flies. 

“Right, right, message received. Dismissed, am I?”

For once, his plan seemed to have gone fully as expected. Except for the whole realizing he loved an angel thing. But that wasn’t so bad. The feeling sat warm and sparking in him, making him a little euphoric. It was so nice to love someone. So very, very nice.

 

***

Crowley all but danced into the church. He was still in a fabulous mood. 

“Helloooo Aziraphale,” he cried. ‘Ouch, ouch, ouch.” He swung into the pew and put his arm around him.

“Went splendidly with the Council. You were superb. _Thank you_. All according to plan.”

“Well, err--not all?” Aziraphale said nervously. Crowley looked at him. He didn’t _know_ did he? That would be bad. Not disastrous, but awkward. He’d prefer to keep it his little secret.

‘I wanted to stay mum about it but I felt too guilty. Oh, bother. Crowley. I--err. I. I enjoyed it. _Carnally_.” Aziraphale whispered the last, widening his eyes. “And I find I may--have feelings for you. Of a kind not befitting--well, not befitting my kind.”

Crowley was flabbergasted. He slouched back in the pew, then sat back up suddenly as it burned the skin at the back of his neck. Satan, what if he really had fallen. He hadn’t, but if he had. The guilt. 

“Well? What do you think about that? What do we _do_?”

Crowley removed his sunglasses, and looked directly into Aziraphale’s worried face.

“I loved it too,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. “Did you really?”

“It was--it was incredible.”

Aziraphale’s smile was so gorgeous it hurt.

“In fact, I say let’s do it again right now,” Crowley said rashly.

“Here?” Aziraphale said. “Crowley dear, I really feel quite fortunate to be considered still on the side of Heaven at all--I don’t want to push my luck by doing it in a church!”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Crowley said. “Live dangerously, Angel.”

“That is precisely the sort of attitude that gets one cast from Heaven,” Aziraphale said. He did have a point there. “Though I wonder--you seem to be getting very comfortable in churches. I remember you finding it much more unpleasant in the 40s. Perhaps I’m a good influence.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Crowley said. “It’s the clothes. They’re evil-er. I think they’re working as a sort of evil armor. Which means, in fact, I’m worse than I used to be. Definitely not going soft.” 

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

“Well, not in a general way. For you, maybe a little.”

**Author's Note:**

> Btw I've been thinking over this fic a little bit, and if I could do it again, I wouldn't have structured it it around a sort of glib take on sweatshops. It's just nagging at me. Ah, well. It's always a process.


End file.
